


What We Need

by boys_in (kaleidosphere)



Series: MariHilda Week [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Fluff, Healing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Time Skip, Romance, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22236979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaleidosphere/pseuds/boys_in
Summary: Marianne adored Hilda's scars, as she did the rest of her.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Series: MariHilda Week [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1600672
Comments: 3
Kudos: 54





	What We Need

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Day 1 of [#marihildaweek on twitter!](https://twitter.com/marihildaweek/status/1200228870529662976) The prompts given were first kiss / cuddles / scars and I chose scars! The only characters I tagged were MariHilda themselves, but Ignatz, Raphael, and Caspar are mentioned for a hot minute. 
> 
> Any feedback is appreciated! Enjoy!

Dawn. It was quiet in the monastery. Marianne took up residence in the infirmary, which was empty except for her and Hilda. It wasn't anything much, really—the two of them went along with Ignatz and Raphael, disposing of the bandits who still tried to infiltrate the monastery, despite Claude and his forces taking residence there for months, now. It was uneventful, for the most part, but one of the bandits managed to creep up behind Hilda, and slashed her back with their sword.

Marianne didn't even _feel_ the magic leave her body, until she blinked and the bandit was down, body sizzling with phosphenes of light.

"I-It doesn't hurt, right?" Marianne breached the silence first, voice reduced to a mere whisper. "Tell me if it does."

"I'm fine," Hilda insisted. "Don't worry too much about me."

"...That's impossible," Marianne said. "I care about you."

Hilda laughed, and the sound was hollower than it had ever been. "Then thanks for worrying about me. It doesn't hurt as much as I thought it— _ow!"_ She recoiled at Marianne's touch, after she began applying topical to the wound. "You could at least warn me before you switch to the painful stuff, y'know."

"Sorry," she muttered. "I know it's not easy, not after all this time."

"No, if anything, it's me. You'd think that years of fighting I'd be used to getting hurt, but…"

Hilda scrunched up on herself. Although her back was turned, Marianne could still make out the painful expression on her face, and see the weakness coming alive in her bright, rosy eyes.

It bothered her, knowing that there were things about Hilda which she couldn't comfort—wounds that wouldn't heal, not really. As Marianne stared into the scarred expanse that was Hilda's back, she wondered if her contributions were enough, and if her strength was even measurable to hers.

With a delicate, easy touch, Marianne traced her finger over one of Hilda's scars. It wasn't the new wound, of course, but something old and jagged. She hadn't recalled seeing it before.

"Pain isn't something people should 'get used to,'" Marianne said. "Like this scar, here."

"Oh, the one that's like—the one on my mid-back?"

"Yes. If you don't mind me asking, what happened here?"

Hilda went quiet, and Marianne became afraid of the possibilities. Was she angry at her? Sad at the memories? Why did Marianne even ask such a personal thing, anyway? She knew that the realm of intimacy and social awareness was far beyond her own capabilities, and yet to have asked something so blatant? Sure, she got better at talking to people and being around them in the past five years, but was that improvement enough to justify her sudden curiosity?

But then again, when had Marianne _ever_ been good with words? "I'm sorry, I should've kept my mouth shut. Just forget I said anything and—"

"Please, it happened a long time ago." Hilda laughed, and Marianne relished the sound. High, airy, but somehow _sweet,_ Hilda's voice was so comforting to listen to. And yet, there was that _hollowness_ again, the same one from before. It wasn't a new development, yet Marianne was surprised to hear it, nonetheless.

It was reminiscent, quiet.

She waited for Hilda to continue. "Five years ago, during the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. Remember?"

"I could never forget it. It was us versus the other two houses, and Flayn had just joined us, as well...but, but how did you get hurt like this?"

"Oh, you know, I was dealing with some of the guys from Black Eagles, until Caspar came out of nowhere and ambushed me. I got a little too excited—I nicked him in the side, y'know, the poor thing—and he responded in kind. I shouldn't have turned my back when I did." Hilda sighed, and leaned back on her hands, palms pressed into the sheets of the bed. "He apologized a million times afterward. I made him pay me back by having him do all of my chores that week. Those were good days."

The most recent memory they had of Caspar wasn't a pleasant one, in comparison. His body thudding to the ground, the flags at Fort Merceus flying high above him—Marianne shut her eyes at the thought, and pretended that he and the others were still around, so that Hilda's fond memories could remain as they were.

For being a part of the Golden Deer, everything seemed to be stained _red,_ these days _._

Marianne tried her hardest not to think about it, as she finished dressing up Hilda's wound. "T-Those days were...something, alright. I'd like to go back and change things, if I could."

Hilda replaced her frayed shirt with a new one, lacking the corset and other accessories as she also lacked the strength to put them on in the first place. Still, she turned around to face Marianne properly, hands placed in her lap. "What do you mean by that?"

"I was so weak then, and so lost. Knowing the things I do now, and seeing the sights I've seen...if I could go back, I'd shake some sense into my old self. Tell her that she needs to wake up from her dreams of dying."

"That's a little harsh," Hilda uttered. "I'm sure she... _you..._ would have understood, though. No one ever imagined things would turn out like this."

"It's not just that," Marianne insisted. Her brows furrowed as she tried to think of the right words to say. "I guess I feel bad. You and the others can reminisce about our school days and remember the fond times...but I can't do the same. There weren't 'good days,' at least not for me. All I can think about is how miserable I was back then, and how blind I used to be. Everything else is a blur."

"Marianne…"

"I guess what I mean to say is...I'm sorry for never noticing how hurt you were before. But you have to understand that, that I want to make a difference, this time around."

"No, I get you. I'm sorry for taking you lightly—back then, too." Hilda smiled, and reached forward to place her hands on Marianne's. She rubbed over the knuckles gently, fingers calloused and worn. "Thanks for the patch-up. Anything I can do for you, since we're up so early?"

"We're up _late,_ " Marianne corrected. "We haven't slept in over two days."

"Sleep is so last season, anyway."

"You might be right."

"Seriously, though, do you need anything?"

Marianne laughed, and brought Hilda's hands to her lips, peppering her skin with kisses. There were scars on her fingers, too—not just on her back. As well as scars in many other places, most of which Hilda couldn't see. But each one was a frozen moment in time, serving as reminders of the rigorous path they all chose to forge.

Marianne adored Hilda's scars, as she did the rest of her.

The girl back then—the one that cried out for the Goddess and for death to come save her—would have likely done the same.

"I don't need anything right now," she said, "except for you."


End file.
